Demigod Parenting 101
by KnightOfBurgers
Summary: When you're helpless but also the only one to blame. The Do's and Don't's of demigod parenting, by veterans. A series of one-shots depicting parental relationships in the PJatO/HoO universe, full of regret and hurt. OR Percabeth's mortal parents caring for them. Part 1 of Another Him-and-Her Story. Post-Canon.
1. Miss Chase

_So this one is set in the same universe as my other one-shot and occurs before it. I wanted to justify Fredrick's actions and capture the pain of a father, and so a tiny headcanon turned into this. I've tried first person present tense narration for the first time, so tell me if it sounds lame._

_Note: The italics font-face outside of quotes is the letter._

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**1\. Miss Chase**

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By the elusive light of the rapidly arriving dusk I sit down in my desk by the window, and quickly move aside the arrangement of tiny figurines that make up the mass of the German infantry to make way for the paper to review.

_Dear Annabeth,_

_I'm sorry._

_I know for sure that these clusters of derived symbols meaningless to over three quarters of the human species cannot hope to ever present my emotions in all their extent to you, but I hope you'll pity me enough to read through this letter._

_I cannot disagree that I was a bad parent... but perhaps I knew, subconsciously, that Chiron could better handle the intricacies of raising a child than a blood father. That is the fundamental irony in parenting, I have realised: a blood parent can only love and nurture their child so much without destroying themselves. I wish to give you the best, even now I try, but I know you'd rather I remain sane and alive, even if you don't truly wish so._

_The first time you grabbed something was a _Homer_, you know. Tried to yank it off a pile of research books. You succeeded in dragging it an inch off the edge, and then got frustrated and hit the overhanging part to make it fall. It hit your ankle, and you started crying the life out of your lungs. Scared me halfway to hell, you did, and I, somehow in my parental panic, emptied half the formula I was hurriedly preparing on you, and you, in your childish hunger, forgot the book and pain and began licking it off your body like a feline cleaning itself._

_I don't know why I put that in here, perhaps because I'm more demigodly-attention-deficient than I give myself credit for, but it felt good. It feels nice to share your Crazy Baby moments with someone other than these desolate walls that entomb me. Of course, that's assuming you read further this letter than what my rationale predicts. So I'm just gonna send you some more childhood memories, and hope you reach them._

_I love you so much more than you can ever know and comprehend, and I know that carries more meaning for a Athenian demigod than for a mortal. It is my shortcomings that gifted you this life of pain and hell, and I resent myself for not being there, but I hope by the time your intelligent eyes consume the thoughts I've displayed here that you'll know how I tied my own hands._

_I knew of Camp from Athena before you were conceived, and she shared my hatred of it: how in ever can you love a place that acts as a slaughterhouse in the name of gods? After we had copulated, I made it clear to her that I wasn't going to send you there, and she had wholeheartedly agreed, saying that she didn't want her children to become human sacrifices to her family any more than I did. She'd even given me her Demigod Parent Package containing grenades to thicken the a Mist in order to escape, or hide myself from other mortals as I used the saber she'd given me to kill (or is it vaporise?) monsters after you. It also contained a few other weapons and a lot of ambrosia and nectar. Turned out to be pretty handy: I was able to keep you with me for a long time._

_Yet all that worldly-long time seems too short to me now. Too short to preserve your image in my mind, your voice in its childish glee and zeal. Too short to love and to be loved in return. Too short to be a father in actuality._

_Your first word was "Eena", which, considering the fact that you were pointing your fisted left hand towards an artist's rendition_ _of the _Parthenos_, to which I had often made moan after your tantrums, translates to "Athena". You next said "Pa, Eena!" while looking swiftly between me and the drawing, and gesturing wildly with your fist at it, as if to draw my attention to it. It was pretty cliche now that I think of it- finding your parent as a child- but then, it merely confirms "It is a wise child that knows his own father". Or "her own mother"._

_I suppose that it shouldn't have surprised me, then, when you stated pestering me, inquiring whether Athena would visit you if you "pray really hard", even though you hadn't known her to be the one who birthed you. It was endearing as well as distancing: it was a little more than painful how you forgot your dotting father in favor of her unattainability. Sort of like a toddler's version of Forbidden Fruit. God, how I wished that you would value me so! After a few weeks of dodging the question, I, mindless with your strange question, told you that No, Athena won't visit you._

_Your broken and sad look and absence of protests and arguments shook me. I had always imagined myself as the fictional capital-G Great father, the only knight-in-shining-armor that my daughter'd ever need. Seeing that despondent expression on you I saw as a failure in that respect, and I knew I had to get you to meet your mother._

_I had no way of contacting Athena then, and after praying failed, I scoured all of the myths and legends for a method for mortals to get themselves noticed by the gods. It was almost completely futile. I chanced upon a record of a demigod parent who, just like Beryl Grace now, had repeated the same deeds that attracted the god to them originally. The god, being of extremely short memory, had returned to them thinking them a new lover from afar and heard their demands._

_I swear, I didn't realise it then. I only wanted for you to have met her. I thought I was helping you, manifesting your dream. I threw every neuron into the task and all it did was get you away from me._

My eyes tear up even now, even after her seemingly accepting me years ago. A man was allowed to wail for love, to weep for his child, right?

To think that I ruined my own daughter's childhood. That I whiled away the days as she hated me, out on the streets, running from the creature I had become for her.

Lord Apollo illuminates the skyline for a moment more. Then, night falls.

I reach out to turn on the lights, bidding them help me censor and better this letter of tears and worse.

_And yet, even though it was so obviously stupid, your father spent himself in his research. I thought that if I became an important figure in academics, your mother would at least hear my request. I got deeper and deeper into a marsh of books and papers I created myself, and I unknowingly pushed you away to get closer to grabbing Athena's attention._

_And when I realised what I was really doing, I became even more foolish. Irrational! IDIOTIC! **CRAZY**! I thought, maybe you'll get to Camp and meet her there. Maybe you'll learn from other Athenians and become greater than me and impress your mother yourself._

_And so I scared you away._

_The most unsettling part- the one that makes me often wonder how did I pass my mental health examinations then- is that I felt completely fine doing it. I felt no remorse the day you ran away. No concern. Your sparkling eyes that burned that day as you stood by the door made me proud. I somehow couldn't grasp that the sparkle was saltwater, and that the fire wasn't of determination and confidence like I'd thought it to be._

_I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, **I'M SORRY**!_

I look at the text following it, and decide to black-ink a few paragraphs after that: the microphone on the laptop was too sensitive to let even whispers go unrecorded, and hence the following block of text is a mixture of self-hatred and declarations of my inability to continue.

The machine had worked through my breakdowns and heavy-with-emotion ragged whispers pretty decently, also denoting my tone in its typing. I hadn't known that speech-to-text was so advanced, but I'm grateful, since it helped me write an otherwise impossible letter.

This task feels more like an introspection than anything. Annabeth could easily take off the censoring with a reagent and look at all my words freely. I wonder if Hermes had a service to return the letter when she's done with it: I really wish to know how much she trusts me.

Matthew begins playing something on the piano in his phone just as the clock strikes the hour. I can't place the tune, yet it was instantly pleasant.

_I should never have let you go! I was stupid! I pushed you so far away. God, how thankful am I everyday that you survived the consequences of my folly!_

_This is why I scared you away, Annabeth: because _I_ was scared. I didn't know what I would to if I had to look into your half-accusing, half-pleading eyes for one more second. I was scared that I was limiting your greats. I was afraid I'd- you know what my backup plan was? I planned to start using your scent to lure monsters and kill them all, even go to the nests and find them and then kill them, all so that the Olympians might notice an abnormality and come down to check it out._

_I do not defend my actions or thoughts (though now I fear Athena is interested in intelligence over wisdom in her men, thus leading to bad choices all over the little time I had with you), but I only tell you this to tell that I was driven by love, and not hatred._

_My dear, all that hurts is love, because nothing else can, and because all that matters is love. Calypso will testify to that._

'_And I will, too._' It hurts. It had hurt then and hasn't stopped hurting since. Matthew's music intensifies a bit as I remember her return after the second war. She had stood on the steps outside the house and said that there had been another war, and that the peacemaking and picking-up-the-pieces had taken a lot of time. She had stridden in wordlessly, gone to her room, and returned a couple minutes later to the same position with a loaded duffle bag added to announce that she was moving in with the Jackson-Blofis family and later Percy Jackson, and calmly walked away without so much as glancing back. '_A year and a half she'd been lost to me, and all I'd gotten was that._'

I decide to leave the rest of the letter as is and get up to get a drachma from the supplies. I fold the letter in thirds and placed the golden coin on top. I say, "My Lord Hermes the Messenger, please accept this offering and get this sheet to Annabeth Chase- or Jackson or Chase-Jackson, I don't know- at Camp Half-Blood..." I glance at the calendar and the time, "or the Jackson-Blofis residence."

The material disappears... only to reappear a moment later, with a female voice in my head, '_Recipient not found at address. Or, large location to search. Suggested-_'

"Yeah, I know." I place four drachmas on top of the one from earlier to complete the new fee. The female thanks me and begins searching all across earth for my daughter's location to deliver the letter.

The money and the letter reappear. I'm about to scan for any illegal contents regarding the Olympians that may have caused its non-delivery, when the god of Messages himself appears.

I stand up and kneel, and he allows me to sit. He says, "I am here to ask you to withdraw your request, sir."

"Of sending the letter?"

"Yes. And to apologise for the inconvenience. But first you must withdraw the request. I cannot have a failed delivery blemishing my name."

"You mean to say that you _can't_ give the letter to Annabeth? How is that possible? I thought the advanced mode checked all locations."

"That it does, sir." Hermes admits. "But I fear that Hades doesn't stand mortals communicating with their dead... Now, the cancellation?"

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_So, there's gonna be at least one more chapter for sure (SJB), but after that... the response will decide. So please review if you wish to read more about stained parental relationships in the PJatO/HoO universe._


	2. Mister Jackson

_I've been writing and editing this one for a long time, because it's really close to me. Like last chapter, the italics typeface when outside quotes represents the letter. Hope you enjoy._

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**2\. Mister Jackson**

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The dusk is about to end and birth a fine summer night. The driver is trying his best to speed through, but the streets are a little too filled for that, and sadly our cab can't transform into a robot or a monster-truck to stomp over the vehicles and get us home.

My feet can't stop tapping with all this delay in getting to the hotel. Still, I must begin and complete the letter. Percy needs to read this as soon as possible.

_Percy,_

_Rachel told me about your behavior. I know what made you do it, but I had hoped you'd prove stronger and wiser than that. All she's trying to do is help you!_

_She's just as distressed as you are! Rachel's just putting the threat of losing another friend before the grief of one already gone: she cared enough about you to move in with us to help better you, for Heaven's sake!_

_I _know_ the circumstances make a scarce resource out of the will to live, and I know it's not easy to lose your love... but I also know that the love you've lost is never greater than the love you still have and can have in the future. You insult your friends' love and mine by behaving like that._

_Annabeth's gone. There's nothing you can do to even see her once more except die. And don't you think of trying again! You know from pervious times Nico won't let Thanatos near you, and Thalia _will_ march down from wherever the Hunt's at to beat you up for even thinking about such things! And Reyna and Jason and Piper and Frank and Hazel and Grover! Last time you tried, Rachel lay crying into the night and dawn, having been almost abandoned by both of her best friends! Would Leo have wanted to see you give in to the dangers of mortality when you have a world to protect, of kids likely to suffer worse than you?_

_One of you was to die first in most scenarios. She left earlier than you, and now you blame her. You say you love her and yet you desire her to outlive you in misery in the aftermath of your death? Do you not remember I taught you love is selfless? How is it selfless if you'd rather die in peace and let Love suffer than take the pain for yourself?_

_If I know Annabeth, she's going to wait for you. She's going to wait and she's going to remember your love and she's going to love you no less when you arrive than now, whether you arrive to take her in your arms or to wait for someone else._

Nico has informed me that Annabeth isn't waiting down in Elysium, but that was in private. Percy hasn't yet told me that, and so I have to pretend.

_The world without her is not as dark as you think, love. And the empire of darkness retreats further the longer and harder you dare to look: it is our fear and sorrow and misbelief that create night. You can as easily dissipate it as be consumed by it._

Paul turns over a page of the journal he's been writing to recount our vacation to Percy. He's trying so hard to bond but Percy's depression keeps destroying all his attempts.

_You could blame your father and all of his family for not helping. You could blame all of them for cursing the two of you to such a life. You could blame them for helping so much it felt safe. But is it truly any fault but those of the stars?_

_And you must understand that you don't have the blue of the sky to help, nor the green of the sea. Not the black of Hell and not the gold of Heaven. You have but the heavy flowing crimson of your blood to help you. And that's why it's unadvised to sent it down the sink._

_Your Greek philosophers say that romantic love is the weakest of all loves, since it was the first betrayed, because Gaia had Ouranos killed even though they claimed to love. I had thought that yours would be the legend to strike that down, but the luck your name have you lasted only so far._

I weigh the importance of my next words against the pain. It takes me a long moment to decide.

_Annabeth is down there now, Percy. She can help herself forget. I know she is smart and wise and you do too: she wouldn't have given in if there was something we of the above world could do to help. But she gave in, and that doesn't permit us to judge her. Not the wisest and not the most just. None may judge her, for we don't know her as much as we like to think._

_Because it takes someone to break down into pieces for us to see them truly._

_Remember that Athena is _wise_ before _intelligent_: Annabeth applied no cold-hearted probabilities and scenarios to this, she just knew what was best. You may think she died to protect her from the misery but maybe she foresaw a little further and actually protected _you_ from misery?_

I don't what else to write. My letter is contradicting itself in techniques so many times it seems better to trash it. But it is precisely like Percy's state of mind in that matter.

I write the address on top and dig out a drachma for the fee—

A deafening crash and then my blood stains the letter. It hurts and yet the pain is ebbing away like my blood. I look at Paul bleeding and dead, and I know Percy is never gonna recover from this.

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_To clarify, Sally dies in a car crash in the end, which is relevant to _Miss Jackson_'s chapter one, where we see that Hesria has gifted (or cursed) Percy with an apparition resembling Sally which Percy hates. Also, thank you _Wisepickle_! Fortunately or unfortunately, I haven't yet had my child die cruelly at the hands of heaven, and so I couldn't write how he would've felt. Besides, I feel that the strongest emotions can only be expressed by reference, 'cause every reader has their own range of emotions against which to measure an event. So, yeah. Just pray for the people who've had to experience this in real life._

_The language and metaphors are elaborate, almost pretentious seeming, and sprinkled with quite a few John Green lines or ideas, but I felt it was an appropriate sequel to Fredrick's chapter. Please spare a minute to tell me your thoughts_


End file.
